Paris Journal 2011 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

Photos and thoughts about Paris

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The mayors of the near-beach towns of Brittany are frustrated. The head of the Ministry of Ecology, Nathalie Kosciusko-Morizet, has declared that all beaches that do not have the green algae removed DAILY must be closed. That’s right – every 24 hours, the beaches with green algae must be cleaned if people are going to use them. The mayors rightly point out that within the first 24 hours, the algae holds a lot of water in it, and is much, much heavier and therefore more expensive and more difficult to remove. Better to let it drain and dry for a day or so, then remove it. Plus, they point out, the rotting process does not begin until the algae has been on the beach for 48 hours. When it starts to rot is when the algae begins to emit the dangerous fumes. And if the algae deposits happen on a weekend, it is nearly impossible to get someone to remove it. Those guys want to enjoy their weekends, too, like everyone else. This edict affects 50-some beaches, but at the moment, it only affects the beach at Morieux, the place with the most green algae. Mayors are perfectly capable of deciding when to close the beaches in their jurisdictions, the mayors argue. For example, last year, the mayor of Ris closed his town’s beach for several days to remove the algae and to clean the beach thoroughly. So sad. Nobody talks about what happens to all the miniscule creatures that live in the sand of a beach. Surely their numbers are taking a beating from the toxic algae and then also from the violence of the beach-cleaning process. In spite of what all the experts are saying, the farmers of Brittany are refuting the evidence of their responsibility for this eco-disaster. Their counter-attack? They declared a soccer match of their own on the beach at Morieux, to prove that the beach isn’t deadly. The green stuff that we live with, all the flowers on the long, narrow balcony of this apartment, finally were in need of a drink last night when we came back from dinner. It was about 9:30, and the sun had already set. Days are getting shorter. But there was plenty enough light to complete the task. I’m the one who goes out and maneuvers along the narrow space, garden hose in hand. Tom handles the hose as its spiral form snakes through the apartment, from the outlet by the kitchen sink, around all the many chairs and out through two of the sets of French doors. My father, who hated heights, is looking down from above in horror, I thought, jokingly. When the chore was done and the plants were happy, we sat at the little table on the balcony and enjoyed the dying light and perfect, although slightly humid weather. We talked about how much we’d enjoyed our very traditional dinner at Le Granite, on the rue Duranton, after our evening’s stroll. The link above has many more photos of the resto and its food, and if you can read French, there is a great description of the cuisine. A Madame Martinez owns Le Granite. The temporary server was there again. We like him very much. He must now be filling in for someone for the vacation month of August. Two years ago, we discovered Le Granite when it first started up, during the summer. So of course they were open all summer that year. Last year, unfortunately, the restaurant closed for a vacation, and we were not able to dine there with our friends Roy and Barbara when they returned to Paris. This year, Le Granite announces on its blackboard out on the sidewalk that it will be open all summer again (except for Sundays and Mondays, when they are always closed). Chefs and other people who buy food wholesale at the giant Rungis market south of Paris do so in the early morning hours. Rungis is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so that is why many restaurants are closed during those two days. The food at Le Granite is very traditional French cuisine, and it is very fresh. The menu is written out by hand on blackboards. For those who are not used to French handwriting style and the classic French menu nomenclature, it could be challenging, I suppose. I do not know if the server spoke any English, but I do know that he is the kind of guy who really wants his customers to be happy, so he would find a way to communicate the menu, no matter what his level of spoken English might be. Anyway, there were only French people in the restaurant last night, other than us. We arrived early, when there were only a couple tables occupied on the terrace outside. We were the first to be seated inside. I took that opportunity to photograph ourselves sitting in the restaurant, using the mirror on the divider that screens the entrance to the kitchen. I like the décor of Le Granite very much. It is simple, elegant, and not gimmicky at all. The restaurant has an honest, clean, comfortable ambiance. I went with a very traditional choice of six escargots, followed by a confit de canard, duck leg cooked in its own juices. The accompaniment was called a pomme purée, but it was really mashed potatoes – not quite puréed. That’s okay with me. The potatoes were buttery and excellent. The duck let was flavorful, tender, and moist. The escargots were absolutely correctly done. Tom ordered the rack of lamb, which came in a small pool of wonderful, dark sauce with thyme. The accompaniment was ratatouille. We shared the escargots, potatoes, and vegetables (ratatouille), and so we had a relatively modest, well-rounded dinner. The bread served at Le Granite comes from a nearby bakery, I’m sure. It is made with unbleached flour, and seems to be organic. Early in the evening, the server judged by the incoming calls that more bread would be needed. He discussed it first with the chef to get approval, and then he picked up the phone to call the bakery. Within no time at all, a young man arrived with a bag full of baguettes. This kind of convenience, having everything at your fingertips, or at least around the corner, is a blessing in a city such as Paris. We swamp dwellers do not take it for granted at all – so much, so good, and right there, nearby. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook. Note: For addresses & phone numbers of restaurants in this journal, click here.

Saturday, August 13, 2011 In our evening stroll, we went through the Place de la Motte Picquet, in the quiet neighborhood behind the St. Leon church. Some gorgeous flowering street trees have been planted there in recent years. The leaves are like catalpas, but the flowers are not. I wonder what these are? We sit in the restaurant Le Granite while the server sets a table for a group who will arrive later. Les six escargots et le confit de canard at Le Granite. Ratatouille and rack of lamb in thyme sauce. Decoration on the façade grill of a girl’s school by the St. Leon church. A sailboat is one of the symbols of Paris. You see it in the Paris coat of arms. ← Previous Next →